


carry the weight

by katreine



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, I KNOW THE POLIN SHIPPERS ARE MAD, I just really needed to satisfy the muse, I know, I know that's NOT how percentages work, don't get mad okay, don't worry I'm a gazillion percent polin shipper until the end, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28868937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katreine/pseuds/katreine
Summary: It’s not terribly difficult to imagine or recount the means how Penelope found herself in this situation.Or, the one where Penelope has a crush on a(nother) Bridgerton brother.
Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Penelope Featherington/Benedict Bridgerton
Comments: 10
Kudos: 142





	carry the weight

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW. You've clicked on this and are thinking, "What is this author thinking?", but please do indulge me. This idea wormed its way into my thoughts and I couldn't focus on anything else until I fed it. And now here it is.

Penelope supposes she could be in far worse situations than this. After all, isn’t it customary for a lady to swoon over the handsome older brother of her very best friend?

Then again, it’s a different matter altogether when the one who ought to be swooning had already given her heart away to another older brother of her very best friend.

It’s not terribly difficult to imagine or recount the means how Penelope found herself in this situation. Benedict Bridgerton, is, indeed, a great catch, all things considered, and if one were to examine the very being of Mister Bridgerton, they would find themselves with a dedicated artist, one borne to a loving family he so thoroughly adores. And of course, he possesses the Bridgerton good looks and charm in spades.

As much as Penelope has observed these characteristics in Benedict－one can’t miss the brilliance of the three eldest Bridgerton siblings in a ballroom, after all, much less in the comfort of their own drawing room－it was his presence that drew her in.

After Colin went to Greece, following the loss of her father (two unrelated, wretched events in Penelope’s life), Penelope was less herself, and more alone. It seemed that the presence of her father－steady, calming, quiet－and the loss thereof eroded what was left of the foundations Penelope was just starting to build. And Colin leaving after suffering heartbreak from his first betrothal－discontinued, she should say－did not improve Penelope’s condition.  
Eloise was as constant a presence as ever, a brilliant, soft light guiding Penelope’s way, and she is very thankful for Eloise. Nothing could ever measure up to her steadfast friendship; Penelope oft surmises that what she lacks in popularity, she has a brilliant diamond of a friendship in the form of Eloise. And for it, she is truly thankful.

But while Eloise has held her hand, sipped tea with her in the privacy of her bedroom, regaled tales of her siblings, and occasionally, read a missive from Colin somewhere far away, Eloise could not fully take away the sadness Penelope felt. To be sure, it hadn’t occurred primarily because of the events of the past year, but the loss of the people Penelope cared so deeply about had made the gatherings after the season unbearable. While most would understand what the Featheringtons were navigating, they were wont to whisper over tea and biscuits, as well.

It’s why, Penelope gathers, the presence of Benedict Bridgerton was so surprising at first.

Smiling at her and Eloise, like he knew the secrets she and Eloise shared, those blue eyes shining with brilliance and his visage lighting up. Later, joining them for tea over at Bridgerton House, when Hyacinth was with her governess, and Gregory frolicking with Anthony.

It seemed that as steady as the passage of time was, so were the weeks spent in the company of Eloise and Benedict. And when Eloise would be off somewhere－gallivanting, perhaps, to finally find the real identity of Lady Whistledown, Penelope found it surprising that Benedict did not make excuses to return to his charcoal and pad, but rather, to talk about her about everything and nothing.

And those few weeks were what seemingly chased away the shadows lurking in the corners of Penelope’s mind.

But as much as the warmth of the tea and conversation with Benedict soothed Penelope like a balm, it churned a storm in her as well－if she did love Colin, why would she look at Benedict in such a favorable light? And while Penelope never regarded Benedict as a suitor or a match, Penelope admits that she did look forward to taking afternoon tea with him.  
It was so easy to look into Benedict’s eyes and listen to him grouse about finding the elusive inspiration for his newest landscape and forget, momentarily, about the other events that Penelope had to plan for, prepare for. It was so right to laugh with Benedict over an anecdote he shared, or just read the paper with him, the glow of the midday sunlight showering over his head like a halo.

And yet, for all the ease and warmth of Benedict’s presence, Penelope knew that she needed to sort out her feelings; while they weren’t privy for all and everyone, they were to her, and every moment she spent with Benedict felt like a betrayal to Colin, which was silly, because no one would ever suspect her desirable for either Bridgerton brother to care over, other than a capacity as a friend, but also, because as far as betrayals are concerned, Penelope is sure this isn’t one she should lose sleep over.

She can’t blame Colin, she supposes, for his absence after the season, and right before it－and, she figures, during her second season, now. But where she used to stand next to Colin, his figure towering over her, an easy laugh and a twinkle in his eye as he cranes his neck for the next full tray, it is now Benedict’s smiling eyes and easy conversation she finds solace in. Even if it feels like routine, or duty, for Benedict to find her in one corner of the ballroom and converse with her, it never feels like the end of one. And Benedict has become so familiar, the sight of him, tall and sprightly in the middle of a crowd, never drawing attention to himself for the pleasure of it. A steady, familiar sight that Penelope is drawn towards.

It’s bittersweet, Penelope thinks, to see Benedict so differently than how she’d conceived him to be, but she’s grateful for the opportunity to know him outside of the ballroom. There’s so much to learn about Benedict, Penelope realizes. While he doesn’t have the weight of being the heir, and the imposing demeanor of Anthony, Benedict’s open charm and warmth is evident in the way he ruffles Gregory’s hair, scolding lightly over a Bridgerton bicker, and always escorting Eloise when he notices her fidgeting. And for all of his openness, Benedict is still a mystery to her: disappearing at choice hours during a ballroom, and appearing the next day, disheveled and disoriented. Benedict’s evenings belongs to what he deems as his muse, but Penelope isn’t so green to believe that it isn’t a muse he’s chasing, but a dame. And for all of the easy acquaintance she’s formed with Benedict, she knows that theirs is not going to bear fruit, much less a courtship leading to a love match. So she stays content, silent in the knowledge that while Colin was away, Benedict was the steady, dependable rope, tying her down. And it’s one she’ll keep to herself, much like many secrets.

And the storm in her quiets, settled in the knowledge that once Benedict finds his match－and he will, Penelope is sure of it－theirs will be as unique as story as Benedict paints one, and Penelope will be fully happy for him, free of encumbrance, free of the yearning she still feels for Colin.

Lady Whistledown would enjoy peering into Penelope’s thoughts, certainly. Ultimately, it was she who declared that she would retire her post on the spot had Penelope married a Bridgerton, and Penelope certainly isn’t going to make Lady Whistledown retire her post any time soon－or any time certain in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> And yes, I did write this fic because I had only Benedict Bridgerton in mind. Mmm.


End file.
